


our hearts are restless

by girlmarauders



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Churches, Drawing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: pre-canon. Augustine tries to get some peace and quiet at church.





	our hearts are restless

Little knew he was one of the few aviators who kept up with church going, although he rather thought a life spent regularly nearly falling to your death ought to inspire a greater appreciation for God's providence. His father had not named him Augustine for nothing, and it was not only loyalty to his father's wishes that kept him returning to Sunday services, although the regular admonishments of his father's letters served as some encouragement. He tried to make an appearance at least once a month, when postings and engagements allowed. It was not always possible to attend services, but he hoped that God would be patient with Little’s replacement attempts at prayers, alone in different empty chapels around Britain. 

He was more regular in writing to his mother than to his father, as she was less inclined to include large sections of the testament in her letters, and always remembered to wish Immortalis well. He wrote sporadically also to his elder sister, who anticipated she would send one of her brood to the Corps eventually. She had married a churchman whose family had been distantly friendly with their father, and, while well-enough established, he and her husband did seem to have the unfortunate habit of producing an excessive amount of children, who would all need trades found. What family influence he could offer would at least get one of her younger ones a chance as someone's signal ensign, as his uncle had done for him.

He had been nearly seven when he had been sent to the covert in Edinburgh. His uncle, who had been first lieutenant on a Yellow Reaper called Verax, with good prospects for promotion on his captain's retirement, had come to stay the weekend to travel with him. Little had only met him once before, that he remembered, but his uncle had been pleasant, if prone to staring out windows and trailing off in the middle of sentences. Uncle Thomas had been his mother’s younger brother, and he and Augustine had looked similar, even when he had been young, such that even his father, who did not normally notice such worldly things as the appearance of his own children, had commented on it. 

They had stayed for Sunday service, and Little could still remember the sermon, one of the better ones his father had given. It spoke of the value of commitment, and dedication to a cause and purpose, in God's name on Earth, and Little had stored those words inside himself, carefully, in the same place he kept his favorite words of the testament, one of the only secrets he had at 7 years old. It had eased the difficulty of going so far from his family so young, and made him feel the part of a man when years later, he had made signal ensign on Herculaneum. As he grew older, they had combined with experience, and the wise words of the captains he had served, to ease the pain that came with being a captain of his own dragon; the responsibility, the sense of failure when he lost a member of the crew, grief. 

The chapel at the Loch Laggan covert was almost always empty, except for a few of the servants irregularly. It didn't have a full time minister of its own, but the village minister would come up every few months to lead an ill-attended service, check the servants were cleaning up and that no-one had made off with the bibles. He'd come up special, if you sent one of the runners or ensigns down to ask, for funerals or weddings. He was a good sort, if a bit sedate and uninteresting, but it was a temper well-suited for a minister who was occasionally questioned by curious dragons or asked to marry female aviators in their coat and trousers. 

It meant that Little had much the run of the place, and few thought to look for anyone there, so it was some privacy to sketch, or read the Bible without being disturbed, a very rare luxury in a covert, especially when you were a captain and had a several ton winged beast ready to stick their nose into anything and everything with only a moment's notice. 

It was there, in the chapel, Granby found him Saturday morning, early enough they were not expected to be up practicing yet. He was sketching with his charcoals, the raised altar of the church and the bow of the stone ceiling above it, to include in his letter to his mother. She accepted his drawings of dragons and trees, but he knew she preferred it when he demonstrated a certain church-ness in his pastimes, and he had not written to her in months. 

Large calloused hands closed over his eyes from behind and he only just managed to prevent himself from jerking in surprise. 

"Granby, get off me, you oaf," he said lightly, carefully sitting aside the sketching pages on the pew next to him. 

"Absolutely not," Granby said airily from above him and Little rolled his eyes under Granby's hands. Granby was taller than he was, and longer-limbed, but years of training for the rank of captain meant that Little was by no means soft. He twisted away from Granby's hands, and when he grasped instinctively after him, Little grabbed him by the upper arms and pulled, hard. With a shocked grunt, Granby came spilling over the top of the pew, his gangly limbs flailing. Little twisted a little and slid along the pew, so as to avoidng being crushed. With some effort and more aggrieved noises, Granby managed to right himself into a sitting position, although not before knocking Little's sketchbook onto the floor, spilling the loose leafs of paper across the stones.

"That was uncalled for," Granby said, although clearly unhurt and not very bothered. He tugged on his coat sleeves to pull it straight on his shoulders, although Little knew it was for show. He ignored him and bent over to pick up his sketches, a strewn pile of dragons and scenery interspersed with a few faces. Trying to be subtle, Little placed his hand over the sketch he knew was of Granby. The last thing he needed was to be accused of being lovelorn over a noisy lieutenant with nothing better to do than torment him. Using the other hand, he gathered up the strewn papers, while Granby peered down at him, no doubt disappointed about the lack of attention he was being paid. 

He bent over from sitting and helped lift some of the pages up on the pew, but when Little looked up to meet his eyes, he had that mischievous glint in his eye. Before Little could move to block him, he dived swiftly past Little's arm and snatched the sketch from where Little's hand had covered it, quickly looking it over.

"Why Augustine, you have been mooning over me!" he crowed, turning the paper to see it from another angle. 

"Give that back," Little said, trying not to flush. There were plenty of other faces he has sketched in his pages, but of course Granby had found that one. 

Granby didn't answer. He was looking at the drawing and sitting back in the pew. 

"It's a good likeness," he said, ignoring Little's request. Little ran a hand over his face and sat up. 

"I like drawing," he said and hunched his shoulders. He disliked intense scrutiny passionately, and, although Granby was focused on the drawing, it distinctly felt like someone examining him closely. Granby looked at him sideways, and he had that glint in his eye that made Little's stomach swoop. It was the same look he has seen across the officer's common the night before they had both taken that final leap of faith, too drunk and desperate and afraid to do anything more complicated than thrust against each other in Little's bed. He knew that Granby would never admit he had been afraid, that he would rather let them hang him than say he had been afraid of Little turning him away or the chance of disgust. He wondered sometimes if that was why Granby was like this. Little had never examined why God had chosen this particular path for him, and tried not to think about it, but he could believe Granby had just found another cliff-edge to stand on, that this, invert-ness or whatever they were calling it now, was another great height to nearly fall from. Little looked at his hands and scrunched up his mouth. He wanted Granby to like him more than as a risk to take. They had been lovers, in practice if not in a name spoken aloud, for months now, nearly a full year, and it was difficult for him to pretend that they were nothing to each other. 

When he looked up, Granby was closer, inches away from his face. 

"You like drawing me," he said, not a question, as soon as Little met his eyes. He didn't wait for Little's response, just pushed forward to kiss him hungrily. He kept pushing and Little let himself fall backwards, twisting a little, one foot touching the floor and the other on the pew, Granby on top of him, still kissing him. It was an awkward position, Granby half-standing, half-leaning over him, with one of his knees between Little's legs, and one of his feet on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Little could see Granby's hand gripping the top of the pew tightly. 

Granby kissed fiercely, with his teeth catching at Little's lips and tongue demanding that Little give as good as he got. He pushed up, his sternum straining to hold himself only half sitting up. Granby pushed back, just as hard, and something hot and frantic pooled in Little's belly. Granby braced himself with his free hand next to Little's head, on the seat of the pew, and pushed his knee between Little's legs, making him gasp. 

"Come on," Granby said between kisses, goading him.

"Fuck," said Little, letting his head fall back and thump against the pew. Granby went immediately for his neck, teething at the skin.

"Oh fuck," Little said again. "John, fuck, if you leave a mark.."

"You'll what?" Granby cut across him, grinning wildly. "What'll you do?" 

Little growled and lashed out, grabbing the back of his neck tightly and pulling him back into a fierce kiss. John was a tease, always trying to push him further each time, to see how much he could push before Little bent. Granby made a strangled sound into the kiss and Little broke away to bite at his neck.

"I won't bugger you here," he growled into Granby's ear. "But I'll bugger you in my bed, bend you over and fuck you, like you want me to." 

"Fuck," Granby said, his voice cracking into a moan. "Yes, yes, you should."

Little reached down and ran his hand over Granby’s cock through his breeches, listening to his already harsh breathing and loving it when his hips shook and then stuttered. 

“Augustine,” he said quietly, on an outward breath, and Little wanted nothing more than to forget where they were and be able to watch Granby come, holding himself up above him with one already shaking arm braced on the pew. Thinking about that made some of his senses come back and he shoved at Granby’s shoulder, forcing him back to sit up. He kissed him lightly, holding his jaw. 

“John, let’s go,” he said, when they broke apart, and turned to rescue his sketchbook. Their kisses had sent them back to the floor, and he pushed them back between the covers of his sketchbook quickly. When he turned, he caught Granby folding up the sketch of himself, tucking it into a coat pocket. Little said nothing. It was an innocuous sketch, of Granby in portrait, and he had sketched other aviators before. No one could say it was inappropriate. Let John keep it. 

They only made it the few steps to the closed chapel door before Granby grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back for another kiss, up against the wall, Little’s blocky shoulders square against the block. Granby had to hunch a little to kiss him, but it meant Little could thrust against the seam of his thigh easily, grunting with the sudden insistence of his arousal and the feel of Granby’s hands around his waist. They were both panting when they broke the kiss, Granby pushing hard against him to bring their hips together. 

“John, not here.” he said, “C’mon.”

He wanted John in his room, where it was private and the door locked and he could get him completely undressed, touch every part of him. It wouldn’t be long until they were seperated by separate postings. Granby was still waiting for news of his next position, and there were rumours of a new captain being brought in to lead Little’s division, which would soon send them into battle, and probably apart from each other. There would be many more opportunities for them to have furtive handjobs up against walls. Little wanted to use the opportunity they had for something more.   
“Why not here?” Granby said, smiling lavisciously, working a hand over Little’s cock through his breeches. “You’ll bugger me in bed but not in church?”

Little grabbed his shoulder, groaning. 

“No, John,” he said with some difficulty, pulling them apart, “unlike you, I have some common decency.” 

Granby winked at him in response, but couldn’t snap back because Little had already pulled the heavy wooden door open. The path from the chapel led directly to one of the side doors in the aviator barracks, and it was a quick run up the back stairs to Little’s set of captain’s rooms, Granby courting danger by putting his hands on Little’s arse as he unlocked the door, and both of them tumbled inside turning to each other, arms already tangled. 

Little shed his coat and pulled off his shirt, all the while watching Granby pull off his boots one by one and push off his breeches. They undressed hurriedly, until they were both naked and grasping at each other. Little grabbed Granby’s shoulders and walked him backwards, kissing him until the back of his legs hit the frame of the bed and he folded backwards, Little climbing on top of him. It felt glorious to be completely naked together, and be able to feel the roughness of Granby’s chest hair, the softness of his waist, where muscle and fat made the skin as soft as good silk. Granby liked this, being under him, and Little put his knees on either side of his hips, grinding them against each other. 

“Augustine, don’t tease,” Granby said, his hand curling around the back of Little’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. He loved kissing Granby, who never held back from the hot, wet slide of their mouths against each other. He knew it wasn’t true, but John never seemed to be afraid of his feelings or worried he would do something wrong. He wore his heart on his sleeve. For someone like Little, quiet and nervous around other people, it seemed glorious. He bit Granby’s lower lip, only gently, and pulled back, rifling with one spare hand in the drawer of his cabinet. Granby used the moment as an excuse to sit up, bracing himself on his elbows, and lick at John’s chest, straining to reach his nipples. He pushed him back, the hand in the drawer finally closing around the oil he was looking for, and when Granby saw it in his hand, his eyes went heavy-lidded and he lifted his leg to throw his ankle over Little’s shoulder without any further antics. They had been doing this for a while now, and they knew each other’s bodies, knew the strange littles things you found out when you spent your nights naked and together. Little turned his head and kissed Granby’s calf, the only part of him in reach, slowly sinking an oiled finger into him. John moaned, his face scrunching up with pleasure, and he was too loud but he didn’t care, he wanted to hear him moan around his fingers. He added a second finger, angling them to make Granby gasp loudly, lifting his hips up, chasing his fingers as he slid them out. 

“Jesus,” Little said, grabbing his prick with his oiled hand, slicking himself up, painfully hard. Granby looked up at him, grinning even when he was wantonly spread out on Little’s bread, and winked. 

“Not quite,” he said breathily, and Little rolled his eyes, lining himself up and pushing at his entrance rather than trying to quip back. John was the funny one, he thought, and then all thoughts disappeared at the hot pressure of being inside him. He always wanted to make it last, and lost the self-control as soon they were actually fucking. John was breathing hard through his mouth, his hips moving to each of Little’s thrusts, making a maddening noise every time his thrusts brought him full against Granby. 

“Oh fuck,” he said too loudly, pushing John’s leg back so he could fuck him harder. John didn’t even need to be told, knew the signs well enough by now to know Little was nearly there, and grabbed his own prick, jacking himself only twice before Little felt him clench and come with an undignified grunting noise. That ridiculous noise was like a bell to a dog for Little now, and he gasped, holding John’s leg tight enough to leave marks, and came. 

John always had more of his wits about him right afterwards, and Little could only pull out, as gently as he could, and fall face forwards onto the bed. He must have dozed because when he opened his eyes, John had put his shirt back on, but nothing else, and was sitting up against the headboard. He had a piece of paper in his hands, and it took Little a moment, in the post-fucking, post-sleep haze, to realise it was the sketch of him. 

“I can do another one,” he said quietly, “if you like.” 

John started a little in surprise, but then put his hand in Little’s short hair. 

“It’d be a bit suspicious,” he said, “if you were always drawing my picture.”

Little shrugged, not moving to sit up. 

“I don’t care.” he said. “Come to bed. There’s new orders coming through tomorrow. Roland will have news of that new dragon captain.”

Granby pulled off his shirt, and put the sketch carefully on the side table, and let Little put a heavy arm over his chest. Little had dreamed about flying every day since he had first seen a dragon up close, and tonight was no different.


End file.
